Author: jason (---.cable.ubr03.newy.blueyonder.co.uk)
Date: 11-24-04 08:24
The former post was removed because it was off topic, and thus a violation of our Great Books & Classics spirit. We are migrating to
registration-only forums at
href=http://jollyrogerwest.com>jollyrogerwest.com Great Books forums,
and booksliterature.com Great Books forums. These are Great Books sites, and we prefer posts along the following
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love\'s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol\'n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov\'d that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov\'d, I view in thee,
And thou--all they--hast all the all of me.
100 per cent of us die, and the percentage cannot be increased.
- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, In DeathGravitation is not responsible for people falling in love. --Albert
O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses.
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer\'s breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo\'d, and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths, are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth.